Tango: Nannette
by forgotten child
Summary: [Chap 16] What if Mark ran into the girl that first taught him how to tango so many years ago? MarkOC. Now rated T...ooOOooo Now with slight Maureen subplot.
1. The Life Cafe

Tango: Nannette

Summary: What if Mark ran into the girl that first taught him how to tango?

Disclaimer: The idea of Nannette is Jonathan Larson's, but here as a person is mine.

Thank You, Jonathan Larson

Chapter 1: the Life Café

Mark walked into the Life Café, and the manager rolled his eyes him.

"Oh," he mumbled, "it's you. Table for one?"

"Uh, yeah," Mark answered, taking a seat himself. He sat his camera on the table, and sighed. As he removed his coat, the waiter came over to his table.

"Hey, Mark," he greeted, "all alone today?"

"Yeah," she answered, eyeing the man's flashy, yet tacky, shirt. "I was just at a Life support meeting. You know, working on a documentary."

"Fun fun!" the man replied, "you want a tea?"

"Yes, please,"

After a few moments, the waiter returned, and handed him a cup of green tea. As he sipped it, Mark picked up his camera. He turned the crank, and began to record around the small restaurant.

"December 28, 1989. 2:30 PM, Eastern Standard Time," he scanned the room, resting a moment on each face, "the Life Café is relatively quiet today, and it seems that…"

Mark paused. He looked through his camera lens at the girl who had just walked in the door. He lowered his ancient equipment, but his eyes never left her. She was wearing paint splattered jeans, and a tan coat. The way that her dark curly hair was pulled back behind her head with a pencil was new to him, but the face was very familiar.

"Nannette?" he heard himself ask.

OK, sorry that it's short! And kind of a cliffy. I'll add more soon! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Reunion

Chapter 2: Reunion

The brunette looked at Mark, and furrowed her brow.

"Nannette Himmlefarb?" he asked again.

Her eyes opened wide.

"Marky?" she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," he said sheepishly. No one had called him 'Marky' in years. "Just, you know, having a drink," he motioned to his tea. "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure!" she laughed, sitting down across from him.

"So," Mark began, "how long have you been in the city?"

"Well," Nannette said, thinking, "About three months? That sounds about right. I can here in August to an art auction, and loved it."

"You're into art?" he asked, becoming more interested.

"Well, more like I'm _married_ to art. All I do is make, sell, and buy art, it seems."

She blushed.

_Wow_, Mark though, _she's really pretty when she blushes_.

"Art," she continued, "and dancing."

Mark grinned. "Hey, thanks for teaching me to tango." They both laughed. "Seriously, though. I know that I hated it when I was fifteen, but now I'm glad that I know,"

"Oh, well, you're welcome," she answered. "Do you tango often?"

"Not really," he sighed, "but I did the other day, and I forgot how fun it is."

She laughed. "You just tangoed the other day. Just because?"

Mark smiled. I _was_ a funny thought. "Well, it's a long story…"

"People always say that," she said, "even if it's not."

"Well," mark laughed, "this one is long and complicated."

"I wouldn't mind hearing it," Nannette told him.

_Is she flirting with me_? he thought.

They sat in the Life Café, drinking tea as Mark told his story. Nanette laughed almost the whole time, finding it hilarious that two people who just met would simply tango.

"So," she asked, after his story, "How long have you been here?"

"Oh, about three years. I live in a loft with my best friend, Roger."

"Oh," she said, and after a moment, asked, "Are you seeing anyone right now?"

Mark smiled smugly. "What part of 'I just met my ex-girlfriend's girlfriend' makes you think that I'm seeing anyone?" Nanette laughed.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," she said.

"Don't be," he told her. She smiled again.

_Man, I_ love _her smile! _he thought.

Nannette looked at her watch and sighed. "Oh, I have to go," she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

"Oh," Mark replied, not bothering to hide his.

"Well," she said, as she pulled her coat on, "I had a great time seeing you again."

Here," Mark offered, pulling his coat on, too, "I'll walk you out."

She smiled.

They walked out the door of the café, and onto to brisk street. Mark began to unlock his bicycle.

"Good idea," Nannette complimented, "that's what I should do."

"It's good for the environment," he said, and when she didn't respond, de continued, "and I can mount my camera right on it. I sometimes film as I ride, when I—"

She cut him off with a kiss.

"You talk a lot," she giggled, after they'd parted.

"Only when I'm nervous," he explained, turning red.

Nannette turned to walk away. "See you around," she called, "Marky Cohen."


	3. The Phone Call

Chapter 3: The Phone Call

The phone rang throughout the loft. Roger and Mark sat listening to the message.

BEEEP

"Hello?" a girl's voice said, "Marky? This is Nanette. I hope this is the right number; I looked you up in the phone book. Anyway, I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday evening? A sculpture and a few paintings of mine are being shown. I was wondering if you would like to be my escort? Um, if you can, please meet me in front of the Type A Art Studio on Avenue C, right across form the Buzzline building. Be there at eight, and dress up. It's a black tie affair. Bye."

BEEEP

Roger turned to Mark.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Just an old friend that I ran in to," Mark answered vaguely.

"Oh," Roger said, and then added, "You're going, right?"


	4. A Black Tie Affair

It's kind of a long one, but I wanted to keep it all in one chapter. A little more MarOC than in the previous chapters. Hope you like!

* * *

Chapter 4: A Black Tie Affair

Mark stood in the cold air on the sidewalk in front of Type A. He looked at the faced surrounding his, in search of Nannette's. He felt like a fool dressed the way he was: a black suit and tie, over a white button-up shirt. But, he seemed to fit in with New Your City's finest.

He almost didn't come, for one reason or another, but Roger made him come. "If you make me go places, I'll make you go places," his best friend had told him. It was true; he had talked Roger into attending a few Life Support meetings. "It'll do you good," he had told his infected friend, who told him the same thing now.

Mark looked around once more, and looked at his watch. 8:12. _I knew I shouldn't have come,_ he though. He turned to leave, and bumped into a woman.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, "I just—Nannette?"

Nannette stood before him in a floor-length red gown. Her hair was down, in perfect little ringlets, framing her face. She caught his stare and blushed.

"You look…." Mark didn't have a word to express how amazing she looked, "Wow!"

"You clean up nicely yourself," she said, flicking his tie.

"Well, Roger told me that a scarf would be inappropriate," he said, half-joking.

She smiled, and nodded towards the tall building. "Shall we go in?" she asked.

He offered her his arm and said, "We shall."

The inside of Type A was a large room, with a staircase in the center leading to a second and third floor. The walls were lined with paintings, and sculptures filled the rooms.

"Wow," he couldn't help but admire the art in the room, and the people looking at it.

"Lovely place, isn't it?" Nannette asked.

"Yes," he looked down at her (though with her heels, he didn't have to look down far), "Can we look at them?"

"The art? Of course! Have you never been to an opening before?" she laughed.

He looked down, feeling ashamed. "Just at the Scarsdale JCC," he said.

"Good," she replied, "Because I'm showing a Scarsdale-esq painting."

They walked around the room, looking at painting after painting. When they got to one specific painting, he was in awe.

Standing in front of him was a paining of a large room full of people. The people were in pairs and all in back. All, except for one couple in the center, where the woman was in red. They seemed to be in various stages of dancing the tango.

"Do you like it?" Nannette asked, seeing Mark's expression.

"It's…Oh my God," he turned to her excitedly, "_You_ painted this?"

She nodded, loving his child-like enthusiasm.

"This is…amazing!"

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. She looked back up at him. "You're the one to thank, though. When we took out lessons, back at the Community Center, I knew that you hated it. But I was so grateful that you stuck with me, and was so serious about it. The way that you stared into my eyes as you concentrated on your dance," she blushed, and looked down, "you made me feel like a lady in red."

Her head still down, she looked up him, searching his face for a response.

"I wasn't only concentrated on the steps," he admitted. He placed is finger on her chin to life her head. His lips met hers, and she placed her hands on his shoulders. His tongue felt its way around the inside of her mouth, and she let her tongue meet his.

When the parted, the kept their foreheads together, staring into each other's eyes.

"Wow," Nanette whispered, as Mark stroked her cheek.

"Yeah," he agreed, "wow."

"This is a good one!" a voice said from behind them, reminding the two of where they were. They giggled as they moved out of the way, and looked at who the fan could be.

"Maureen?" Mark heard himself ask. Hid ex-girlfriend turned at him, and grinned.

"Mark!" she shouted with glee. "Pookie," she said to someone behind her, "look who it is!"

Joanne stepped forward, and greeted the two.

"Uh, Maureen, Joanne," Mark said, though he was still awestruck, "This is Nannette Himmlefarb. Nannette, this is Maureen and Joanne, some friends of mine."

Joanne looked at her with a furrowed brow, and looked back at Mark. Then from Mark to Nannette again. "The rabbi's daughter?" she asked.

Nannette's eyes went wide, and she said, "Yes, how did you know?" then she realized who she was talking to. She looked at mark, and said, "This is who you tangoed with?"

He grinned, and nodded.

"What's going on?" Maureen wanted to know, "Who tangoed?"

"Oh, Mark and I did the other day," her lover explained, "long story."

"Believe me," Nanette added, "it is!"

"So," Mark said, after a pause, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh," Joanne said, "I have a client who's showing tonight. What about you two?  
"I'm showing, also," Nannette explained. She motioned to the painting, "This is mine."

"Very nice," Joanne admired, "We may just have to buy a piece of your for home."

"Well," Marks aid, cutting in, "It was nice to see you guys. But we have to go. Over here." He pulled Nannette away by the arm, weaving through the crowd.

"Where are we going?" she asked, over her own laughter.

"Away," he called.

They stopped in a small, empty room lined with painting of bicycles and umbrellas. A sculpture of a large tree stood in the center of the floor.

"_That_ was awkward," Mark exasperated.

"Why?" Nannette asked.

"Because," he tried to explain, "it's Maureen. It's usually awkward."

"Ok," she agreed, not really knowing why. After a beat, she asked, "Now, where were we?"

He pulled her close to him, and leaned down. "Right here," he whispered, and kissed her again.


	5. Last Night

Chapter 5: Last Night

Mark walked into the loft early Sunday morning, dressed slightly as he was the night before. He was wearing a bright smile.

"Oh, good," Roger grinned, looking up from his guitar, "you got laid."

Mark laughed his eyes wide with wonder. "More like, I spent the night in Heaven."

Roger shook his head. "Man, you really _did_ need some!"

His roommate just took a seat on the couch. Roger took his camera from the kitchen table.

"Here we see little Marky Cohen, whose a _real_ boy now!" he narrated. Mark just rolled his eyes. "C'mon," Roger provoked, "tell us what happened."

The strawberry blonde smiled boyishly. "I had the night of my life," he said.

--Flashback--

"C'mon," Nannette said, pulling _him_ by the arm. She led outside and onto the street. After waving down a taxi, they climbed inside, and told the driver her apartment's address.

"Your place?" Mark asked, and Nannette grinned. Mark smiled back, "Alright."

The arrived at a small complex, and paid the driver. They ran up the three flights of stairs, hand-in-hand. He felt like a high-school boy again.

Nannette unlocked her apartment, and pushed him inside.

"I want to paint you!" she told him, very excited.

"You want to what?" he asked, confused.

"Paint you," she repeated. "I want to paint a picture of you. Can I?"

"Sure," he agreed. Ten minutes later, he didn't know why.

Mark stood on Nannette's kitchen table, clutching a camera that hung around his neck. He was stark naked.

The young girl sat perched on a barstool, giggling widely. Her body was hidden behind an easel.

"What am I doing?" he asked, shivering.

She laughed again. "Freezing," she told him.

"I don't want you to paint me anymore," he told her, childishly.

"What do you presume that we do?" she asked him.

Mark thought for a moment, and answered her matter-of-factly, "Tango."

"OK," Nannette answered.

He stepped off of the table, and took her hand, not bothering to put on his pants.

They began to tango as they had so many years ago. He led her, watching her eyes constantly. When he dipped her down, he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. He tried to keep her in his arms, but lost balance, and they both fell onto her floor, laughing.

Mark leaned up on his elbow, and looked down at her on the floor. He chewed on his lip, not knowing what to do. But Nannette was already reaching up, taking his face in her hands and kissing passionately.

--End Flashback--

"That's it?" Roger asked.

Mark laughed. "That's all I'm telling you," he said.

"C'mon," his roommate pleaded, "just tell me how it was."

"Amazing," he said, before playfully punching Roger in the arm. Mark turned and looked his best friend in the eye. "Rog," he said, "I think I'm in love."


	6. Meeting the Gang

Chapter 6: Meeting the Gang

The phone rang throughout the loft. A loud beep sounded out as Mark sat next to the answering machine. Without her number, he hadn't been able to call her. Instead, he patiently waited for her call.

BEEEP

"Marky? Nannette." The voice said. Mark jumped up and picked up the receiver.

"Nannette?" he said.

"Marky," there was a smile in her voice.

"Hi," he whispered.

"How are you?" she asked him. He grinned.

"Wonderful. And yourself?"

"Amazing," she told him. Mark's smile widened with her answer. "Do you," she asked, "want to do something? Tonight, maybe?"

"Tonight?" he said, thinking. Tonight was the night of Maureen's protest. _Crap,_ he thought. "I can't," he said, not bothering to hide his disappointment, "Maureen is protesting."

"Oh," Nannette responded, also sounding bummed.

"Oh!" Mark remembered, "I don't have to film it! You can come, if you want!"

The girl brightened. "Really?" she asked.

"Sure," he said happily, "then you can meet the gang!"

"That'd be great!" she said.

They made plans to meet about a half-an-hour before the show at the 11th Street lot.

--------------------------------

Mark ran around the loft frantic as Roger plucked at his usual instrument. It was 8:15, and he was meeting Nannette at nine.

"Where's my scarf?" he asked his roommate.

"On your neck," the musician responded, not even looking up. Mark felt the scarf he was wearing, and sighed.

"Thanks," he old his friend. He ran his fingers through his hair, "How do I look?"

"Like a scrawny albino," Roger laughed.

"Very funny," Mark mocked, "not take your ATZ."

Nannette stood in the center of the lot, with her hands stuck in her pockets. As son as she saw Mark, she ran up to him.

"Hi," he said to her. She grinned in response. "Roger and Mimi will be here soon," he told her, and looked around. "I think that Collins and angel are here now."

As he said that, the drag queen pushed through the crowd and up toward the two.

"Angel?" Nannette asked Mark, and he nodded. She looked back nervously.

"You'll be fine," he told her confidently, "they'll love you." He paused, and whispered in her ear, "I do." Her eyes and mouth opened as she turned to him like a child to their Christmas presents.

"Mark!" she shouted, her eyes smiling, "Do you really?"

He nodded, and she jumped up at him for a kiss. He laughed as he pressed his lips to hers.

"Hey, you two!" Angel giggled, coming up to them. The parted, and turned to greet her.

Nannette stuck out her hand and introduced herself. Angel looked at her, and grinned.

"A friend of Mark's is a friend of everyone's!" she announced, and hugged the Jewish girl tight.

Collins joined them, and smiled at the slightly disoriented girl. He stuck out his hand to her. "Collins," he said, "nice to meet ya'."

"And you," she responded, grinning.

"Angel!" a voice shrieked from being them. Angel turned to look, and laughed.

"Mimi!" she shouted back.

"Mark!" Roger shouted, mocking the girls.

Mark took Nannette's hand and led her to his roommate. "Roger," he said, "this is Nannette. Nannette: Roger, my roommate, and his girlfriend, Mimi."

Roger smiled, looking her up and down. "So this is the famous Miss Himmlefarb I've heard so much about," he said, elbowing his friend. Mimi smiled, and shook her hand, before running over to Angel. Roger, Mark, and Nannette walked over to meet them.

Suddenly, the light went off. Nannette grabbed Mark hand and squeezed. He looked down at where he thought she'd be, and reached out. His fingers groped her cheek.

"It's ok," he whispered, "It's just Maureen."

Then, the spotlight appeared on the stage, as well as a puff of white smoke. As the cloud cleared, Maureen's body became more visible to the crowd.

"I was lost one night," she started, and everyone cheered. "It was the night," she continued, "that I gave the world light." She snapped her fingers, and the house lights came back on.

Nannette giggled. "This is so cool," she told Mark.

They barely listened to Maureen's angstful monologue, as they were giggling and kissing the whole time. Mimi and Angel awed the cute couple, as Collins and Roger rolled their eyes.

As Maureen walked off stage, Roger nudged Mark. "C'mon," he said, "we're going to the Life."

Mark looked down at Nannette. "You up for it?" he asked.

"You kidding me?" she laughed, "Of course I am!"

They laughed, and got together to leave. Joanne looked down to them from her place on the high stand.

"We'll meet you there!" she called, as they nodded, and left. Joanne climbed down, and went to give her lover a congratulatory peck on the lips. Maureen just stepped away from her.

"Who was that?" she asked angrily, "With Mark?"

Joanne looked at her. "I think it was Nannette," she told her, "from the art showing."

Maureen shook her head and glared out the door. "Now why would he bring that _skank_ to my show?!"


	7. At the Life CafeAgain

I knew where to go with this thanks to rentaholic00. for thanks, this is dedicated to you.

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Chapter 7: At the Life Café—Again

"Hey, Mimi," Angel called, walking past the manager and into the seating area, "let's push these tables together!" They moved the small tabled to resemble one long table, and all sat on one side or another.

"We do this every time that we all come here," Mark whispered to Nannette, as she eyes the many people seated about her.

"The manager hates it," giggled Angel, from across the table, "but we still do it."

"Stick it to the man!" Collins shouted, lighting a blunt.

"Oh," Mimi laughed, catching Nannette's startled stare, "they don't care."

The painter looked at Mark. She smiled, and leaned into her ear. "I've seen Roger trash himself enough; I'll never get into drugs." She sighed with relief.

"My brother almost died from an overdose a few years back," she whispered back, "so I promised my mother I wouldn't even come close to doing that."

"Secrets don't make friends," said a snotty voice from behind them. They turned to see Maureen staring there.

"Hi," Nannette said, and turned to the empty chair next to her. "You want to sit here?" she asked. Maureen raised an eyebrow, but then nodded. "Your show was great," she continued, oblivious to the drama queen's annoyance.

"It was a _protest_," Maureen sneered.

"Oh," the girl answered in a mousy manner.

Mark turned to her. "I'm going to get the drinks with Roger," he leaned in to kiss her cheek and whispered, "I'm so glad that you two are getting along." He stood and went to the counter with his best friend.

"So," Maureen said, in a suddenly, but fake, gleeful attitude, "I was actually surprised when Mark said that you were OK with it."

"Ok with what?" Nannette asked, eyeing her.

"With him dating both of us," she answered matter-of-factly.

"_What_?"

"He _did_ tell you, right?" The performer put on a confused and empathetic look.

"What are you talking about?" Nannette was getting upset and confused.

"Baby," she said straightforward, "your man's dating us both." Nannette sucked in a breath.

"What about Joanne?" she asked, holding back tears.

"Oh, she's mine," Maureen continued, "but sometimes the three of us have our own fun." She smiled wickedly. Nannette couldn't hold it back any longer; hot tears began to stream down her face.

"Why are you telling me this?" she chocked, "Why didn't _he_?"

Maureen leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl. Angel took notice, and began to watch. "Shhh," the drama queen soothed, "I don't know. He probably just wanted a little something on the side, that's all. I'm sure that you didn't mean much."

"What are you feeding into that girl?" Angel asked, looking sternly at Maureen.

"I'm not _feeding_ anything into her. I'm just telling her the facts."

Angel reached over and patted Nannette's arm. "Honey," she asked, "what on earth is she telling you?"

"Oh, not much," she answered weakly, wiping the tears from her cheek, "just about how I'm just a little something on the side for Mark."

Angel couldn't believe her ears. She stood up, and pointed at Maureen. "Girl, what is your problem?" she asked loudly, drawing attention. Nannette became confused, watching the drag queen tell off Maureen. "Why are you lying to this poor girl? Can't you see that she's in tears?"

"So?" Maureen sneered.

"Mark came back to the table, carrying a tray of pitchers of beer. "What's going on?"

Nannette stood and looked at Mark sternly. "Mark," she said cautiously, "I want you to tell me the truth.  
"Of course," he set the tray on the table.

"Are you seeing Maureen?" she asked, fighting back tears with her clenched fists.

"No!" he shouted, surprised, "No, I-I'm seeing _you_, I though." Nannette turned and looked at the woman who was lying to her.

"But baby," Maureen pretended to be offended, "what about us?"

"What _about_ you?" Joanne asked, staring her lover in the eye.

"_Pookie_," she responded, laughing nervously, "I was just having some fun."

"So," Nannette though, "you're _not_ involved with Mark?"

"No, I guess not," Maureen snapped, "he's all yours, slut."

Nannette looked at Maureen, and turned her gaze to the pitcher of beer on the tray. Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed the handle and poured alcohol all over the drama queen.

"You _whore_!" she screeched, and grabbed a lock of Nannette's curly hair. Nannette tried to pull free, but couldn't loosen the grip. She kicked Maureen in the shin, who then just back, gripping her leg. She leaped back at the painter, who was pulled out of the way by Mark.

"We'll just leave," he announced to everyone, as he pulled the small but furious girl out the back door.

"Good idea," mumbled Joanne, who grabbed her lover's elbow and escorted her outside.


	8. Joanne and Maureen on the Street

Chapter 8: Maureen and Joanne on the Street

"What was _that_ all about?" Joanne yelled, once out on the street.

"I don't know," Maureen mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't know!" she screamed, "I just saw them together, so happy and stuff, and I guess I got a little jealous."

"Why?" the lawyer asked, calming herself down. "Why do you care if Mark has a girlfriend or not?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Am I not making you happy?" Joanne asked, beginning to tear up herself.

Maureen looked up. "No!" she shouted, "That's not it at all." She reached to hug her lover, who pulled back.

"Then _why_?" she sobbed, "Why do you need _him_?"

"I _don't_, Pookie," Maureen cried, "I need you."

"Do you?" Joanne asked, "Honestly, Maureen, do you love me?"

The performer looked down at her hands. She knew that she had to answer truthfully. "I-I don't know," she whispered, ashamed.

"Well then," her lover said wiping her own tears away, "you'd better figure it out." She began to walk away from the café, and toward the train station.

"Are you going home?" Maureen called. Joanne stopped and turned.

"I'm going to _my_ home," she sighed, "you'll have to find your own."


	9. Mark and Nannette on the Street

Chapter 9: Nannette and Mark on the Street

"What was _that_?" Mark shouted, pulling Nanette into the alley.

"I don't know," she answered.

Mark watched her wipe a tear from her blotchy face. He pulled her close and hugged her tight. "What did Maureen tell you?" he asked.

"She said that you two were together," she told him, "and that I was a little something on the side."

"No," Mark whispered, "no, that's not true."

She pulled back and looked at him. "Then what is true?" she asked.

"What's true?" he repeated, "I'll tell you what's true: when Maureen broke up with me I was devastated. Every time that I saw her with Joanne, it felt like part of me died. I though that I _loved_ her. I did, honestly, try to get back with her on many occasions, but she never complied," he laughed at the thought of hid feeble attempts, "but then one day, I was sitting alone at a café, and I saw the most beautiful girl that I'd ever seen," He kissed her on the head, "From that moment on, everything changed. I knew that I'd never feel the same about Maureen as I did about this girl."

"So you're not with her?" Nannette asked with hopeful eyes.

"Nope," Mark grinned.

"And I'm not just a little something on the side?" she continued.

"Tell me this," he said, "would I ever confess my love to just a little something on the side?" Nannette grinned, and hugged Mark.

"I love you, too," she whispered into his coat. He lifted her chin and kissed her full on the mouth. His hand ran through her slightly messy hair and her tongue lined his lips.

"I'm glad to hear it," he whispered when they parted. The started down the street towards the loft, hand in hand.


	10. Voicmail

Chapter 10: Voicemail

The phone rang loudly.

BEEEP!

"Marky! Pick up, please, it's Nannette." The voice said. After a pause, she resumed, "Alright, fine. Just listen, then. I found a Tango Hall on Fifth Street. How awesome is that? We can join a class and go dancing every so often. Do you think that you'd want to? It's be like at the Scarsdale again. Anyway, just call me soon, and maybe we can sign up. Love you!"

BEEEP!


	11. Tango Hall

Chapter 11: Tango Hall

Mark stood in front of Studio of Dance on Fifth Street. He looked at his watch. One forty-seven. The class started at two, where was Nannette.

He looked at his outfit of choice: Jeans, comfortable shoes, a tee-shirt, his zip-up jacket, and scarf. She's said that it was casual dress, and he hoped that she was right.

He saw her head bob around the corner. She was in grey sweatpants, a red long-sleeved shirt, and her hair was pulled up. _Good_, he thought.

When Nannette approached him, she first kissed him. "C'mon," she said when they parted, "let's go in."

They walked up three flights of stairs, and entered studio 17. It was full of couples, but they weren't casual. Every man wore nice slacks and a dress shirt a least, and every woman in a dress or pants suit, and heels. Mark squeezed Nannette's hand, who walked up to the instructor.

"Hi," she said, "Um, I thought this was casual dress." The tall man eyed their apparel, and looked back up, annoyed.

"It _is_ casual," he sneered, "casual per New Your City _above_ 42nd street."

"Oh," Nannette said, "alright, sorry." The looked at each other uncomfortably, and stepped back.

The tall, rude man began the class by having everyone pair up, and get into a stance. He pressed a button on a boom box. Soft music filled the room, and everyone began to tango. The movements were fluid and gentle, every muscle knowing every movement.

After a few moments, however, Mark began to get nervous, realizing that he didn't remember much of the dance. He accidentally fumbled and stepped on Nannette's toes.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I'm not very good." She just giggled in response. He stepped on them again, he she laughed a little louder. With every fumble, her volume rose.

Mark watched the other couples surrounding them, and attempted to mimic their movements. When it came time for the dip, and leaned Nannette down. Like nights before, he wasn't able to hold her in the air. She began to slip, and they both toppled to the floor in a fit of giggles. Everyone turned to look at the two.

"Out!" the instructor shouted, "get out of my studio!"

Nannette looked up. "Seriously?" she asked.

"Out!" she shouted, and the two scrambled off the floor. Still giggling, the reached the door and ran down the stairs until they were outside.

Nannette leaned up against the wall to help herself stand as she began to laugh loudly.

"Well," Mark said, suppressing a smile, "I guess that that for tango lessons." They broke out again in laughter, and walked down the road, drawing crazy attention.


	12. Drama Queen

Chapter 12: Drama Queen

Mark pulled open the door of the loft and pulled his bicycle inside. "I'm back," he called, setting the kickstand. When he turned to look up at Roger, another face caught his stare.

"Maureen?" he asked, looking at the tear-stained drama queen.

"And I'll exit stage left," Roger muttered, walking across the room from the table. Mark stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Why is she here?" he hissed at his roommate. The rocker looked at him.

"She wouldn't leave," he told him. Mark started to protest, but stopped himself. He knew that nothing could budge Maureen once her mind was made up.

He put his bag away, and stood in front of where the drama queen was perched on the couch. "Hi," he said to her.

"Oh, baby," she sobbed, standing up and hugging him closely. He couldn't help but put his arms around her middle. "I'm so sorry about everything," she said into his shoulder, "Joanne and I broke up, and, and I realized something very important." She pulled back and looked at him.

"What?" he asked, bored, and yet interested at the same time.

"I still love you, Pookie," she said, with a slight smile. She leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. Her hands found their way through his hair, and his stayed on the small of her back.

After a short embrace, Mark stiffened, and pulled her away. "Maureen," he said to her.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I," he thought for a moment, meeting her hopeful gaze, "I love Nannette." Her expression went back to a hurt look, and she looked down.

"Pookie," she pleaded. He put his hands up.

"Maureen," he said, "it won't work this time. You _know_ how I feel about her."

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, half asking her self.

"I don't know," he said, turning away, "but you won't get anything from me."

"_Fine_," she snapped, pushing away from him completely, "I don't want _your_ help, _anyway_." She wiped her cheeks, and fixed her makeup with her fingers. Making her way to the door, and walked tall, and confident. "Thanks for all you've done," she said through gritted teeth as she walked out.


	13. Drunken Mistakes

Chapter 13: Drunken Mistakes

Maureen stumbled out onto the dark street, letting the dampness envelope her. The quiet night-time was a loud change from the noisy bar that she just left. She walked in hours ago, just after she left Mark's loft. Her anger needed a pastime, and beer seemed like a good one.

She found her way down a street, eyes looking out every corner. She saw a figure remove itself from the shadows.

"Hey," she heard herself call to the being, "how are _you_?" Her words slurred, but the person understood.

"Good, honey," they said, "and you?"

Maureen looked the person up and down. Her long legs were wrapped in purple fishnets that lead to a white mini skirt. A plastic jacket hid her chest slightly, and her black hair laced her shoulders. Large, purple eyelashes were glued into place, adding a feminine look to the masculine features.

"I'll be better soon," Maureen told her, handing over a wad of bills.

"You should know," the hooker said, "I got a little present." She lifted her skirt to show that she wasn't, in face, a woman.

"I'm liking you more and more," the drama queen grinned, throwing her arm around the person.

"Call me Candy," the prostitute told her, "Candy Cane."

-----

Maureen opened her eyes, and groaned in pain. As she rolled over and pulled the covers over her head, she smelled something musty. She looked at the grey blanket in her hands. _I'm not at home_, she thought.

Sitting up, her head began to pound. In spite of the worsening hangover, and thought about her surroundings. She was lying, naked, in a strange, smelly bed. The room was one of a cheap hotel below 14th Street.

"Sh-t," she mumbled, and stood herself up. Looking in the mirror, she knew she was a mess. "What did I _do_ to myself?" she asked.


	14. Roommates

Sorry it took so long. This one's all about Mo!

* * *

Chapter 14: Roommates

"I really appreciate your hospitality, Mimi," Maureen said, stumbling into the dancer's loft.

"Don't mention it," the girl said, "you were in no shape to be out there on your own." She poured a cup of coffee for the diva, and handed it to her. "Plus," she added, "Joanne called me, and asked if I'd seen you. She sounded worried."

"Poor her," Maureen grunted. "I'm just glad that you found me."

"I'm just glad that someone else didn't!"

They laughed, but the diva gripped her forehead. She groaned, and sipped her coffee. Mimi left the room, and came back with two tablets.

"Here," she said, "take these, and go get some sleep." She shooed her friend off to her room, and drew the curtains before closing the door tightly.

---------------------

Maureen awoke in a dark room. _Mimi_, she thought, silently grateful.

She sat up, glad that her headache was gone. But in its place, she felt sick to her stomach. She stood up, pulling the blanket along with her, so comfort her shivering.

Mimi lay on the couch, half asleep. She's given her bed to someone who had needed it more, and was just waking up the next day. Her bedroom door opened, and a diva in disarray emerged.

"How do you feel?" she asked sleepily. Maureen moaned, and plopped down in a chair.

"Hangover wise, fine," she said, "but I think I'm sick."

"Yeah?" Mimi asked, approaching her friend. She placed and hand on her forehead, "You're burning up."

"And I feel sick," Maureen added, "and I'm freezing."

"I'll take you to the doctor," the dancer told her, "but first, let's get you cleaned up."

Mimi got a shower running for her friend, and found an extra toothbrush for her to use. While Maureen bathed, she found some warm clothes that were about the diva's size, and set them out.

By the time the diva was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a black, long-sleeved shirt, with her wet hair pulled up in a messy bun, Mimi was waiting at the door.

---------------------

Mimi and Maureen walked the few short blocks from the subway station to the Med Center. Inside, the diva began to fill out the many papers, writing her name over and over again.

"Do you mind if I put your number down?" she asked the dancer.

"Of course! You stay with me for as long as you want."

Maureen smiled, and wrote down the seven digits.

"Maureen Johnson?" A nurse said, looking at a clip board.

"I'll finish these," Mimi told her friend, taking the pen away.

---------------------

The phone rang in Mimi's apartment. The dancer leaned over the end of the couch, picking up the phone from the floor.

"Hello?" she asked, "Yes, just a moment." She held her hand over the receiver, and called out, "Mo! Phone! It's the Med Center!"

Maureen came out of the bathroom with her hair in a towel. She took the phone. "This is Maureen," she told the nurse.

"Ms. Johnson, your test results from the Medical Center are back," the woman told her.

"Yes?" the diva inquired.

"The blood test is that only one that gave us alarm," said the nurse.

"Why?"

"Because it tested positive for the Human Immunodeficiency Virus," she said.

"What?" Maureen shouted over the ringing in her ears.

The nurse repeated herself. "You have HIV."

* * *

Alright. I know that HIV takes about 6 months for the full effect, not a few days. Also, those are real symptoms, if I remember correctly from Biology. 


	15. Confessions

Chapter 15: Confessions

Maureen sat on the couch of Roger and Mark's loft. She kept her head in her hands, not looking up. Mimi's hand stayed on her friend's shoulder, squeezing it from tie to time.

"What's going on?" Roger whispered to his girlfriend. She shot him a look that said, 'Don't ask right now.'

Mark offered a cup of coffee to the distressed drama queen, but she just pushed it away. He shrugged, and took a sip.

The phone rang, and shortly after, the answering machine picked up.

_BBBBEEEEEEEEEPPPP!_

"You gonna let us up?" the familiar voice said, "Or keep us outside like farm animals?"

Mark laughed to himself, and went to the balcony. He looked down at Collins and Angel, and tossed the key. Angel intercepted it before the anarchist was able to catch it.

Mark went back in, but was stopped by a sound.

"Angel!" Joanne called from around the corner, "Wait!"

The lawyer caught up with the two, and came inside with them.

Once everyone was seated around the lost, Mimi leaned down and whispered into Maureen's ear. The drama queen looked up, showing her friends her tear-stained cheeks.

"I made a—" she stopped, clearing her throat, "I made a stupid mistake," she told her friends. Mark rolled his eyes, knowing this all to well. But Mimi kicked his shin, as if to tell him, 'Shut up, you asshole!'

"What happed, honey?" Angel asked, coming closer.

"Well, the Reader's Digest version is," she paused, letting a fresh fall of tears come.

Joanne shifted uncomfortably. She was expecting the worst, but secretly hoping that Maureen was pulling a mean prank, and practicing a new act on them.

Mimi squeezed her friend's shoulder for support. Maureen's hand reached up and clutched the dancer's.

"I found out," she continued, "that I," she paused again, taking a deep breath, "have AIDS."

Angel's mouth dropped, and she looked over at Collins, who wrapped his arm around his lover.

Joanne ran over to the drama queen. She sat on her knees before her, and took her face in her hands. Using her thumb, she wiped a tear falling from Maureen's eyes. The latter reached up, and grasped her lover's hand. Their foreheads touched, and Joanne kissed Maureen's nose softly.

"I'll be alright," she whispered, before her lover fell into her arms.

Mimi got up, and moved over to where Roger was sitting. His face was pale, and she what he was thinking. His arms opened as she approached, and she wrapped her around his waist. He kissed the top of her head, and she let her head rest on his chest.

Angel was standing with her back to Collins' chest, and his arms were wrapped around her small frame. Angel reached over the grabbed on of her best friend's hands, squeezing it gently.

Mark looked around at his friends, suddenly scared and knowing that now, no matter what, he _would_ be the last one to survive.

Grabbing his all-too usual scarf and camera, he left the loft without saying a word.


	16. Distress

Chapter 16: Distress

Mark walked into the Life Café, staring at the ground. After easily finding Nannette's table, he sat down across form her.

"Marky, what's wrong?" she asked, with an anxious look on her face, "you're face is so red!"

"I've been out since two," he told her, playing with his thumbnail.

"Mark, its six o'clock!" she reached over and grabbed his hand, "Are you ok?"

He pulled it away. "I don't think so," he said honestly.

"What's wrong?" she asked again, with worry heavy in her voice.

He didn't answer, or look even at her. He stared into his lap, and tears began to fall. He sucked in a breath, and shook his head, looking up.

"It's Maureen," he choked out.

Nannette's attitude cooled with the sound of that name. She became more angry than upset, and jutted her jaw. "What did she do?" she asked.

"It's," he said, shaking his head again, "it's nothing like that."

"Then _what_?" she pried, getting annoyed. He noticed her attitude, and clenched his jaw.

"My ex-girlfriend has AIDS!" he shouted, "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Oh God," Nannette muttered, covering her hand with her hand.

"Yeah," Mark responded, "_that's_ what's freaking me out."

"But why is it freaking you out so much?"

He looked up at her, almost horrified. "_What_?"

"You said yourself," she told him defensively, "that she was your _ex_-girlfriend."

"And?"

"And," Nannette continued, angry, "so why are you stuck on her?"

"_Stuck_ on her?" Mark yelled, standing up so quickly that he knocked his chair over. Hot tears blurred his vision, but he was fuming so greatly that he didn't care. "You think I'm _stuck_ on her?" he was drawing attention, and Nannette began to regret saying anything. "Nannette, she's _dying_! _Everyone_ is dying! Soon, it'll be me! _Just_ me!"

He stomped out of the restaurant.


End file.
